Friday, June 13th

Today was not going to be a good day for Rosario Riva. Throughout yesterday, he had endured taunt after taunt from his classmates about the damned video he was in. It wasn't supposed to be this bad, even at its worst. And it was definitely Angelo's fault. Who else could have done this to him, after all? Only Angelo had the connections for something like this. But he had other things to focus on right now. Like how his sisters were openly laughing at him in full view of other people, who also thought it was pretty funny. "Hey, Rosario! Which is better: a PlayStation or the latest iPhone?" Carmen giggled.

"You know what, he should just get both! His birthday is in three months and he needs a present," Gisella replied. The girls burst out laughing. Rosario wanted to punch them so badly, but he couldn't. They were girls, and he was in enough trouble as it was. His hands were essentially tied.

"Leave me alone. I need to talk to Angelo," Rosario huffed. "He has some explaining to do about that stupid video. It's so embarrassing! I saw all those comments and they all say I suck and they're sorry for Angelo because he's related to me and all that shit! Why can't they be sorry for me?"

"Rosario, listen to yourself. Angelo was literally kidnapped and had to save himself with nothing but his own wits. He got traumatic memories and a broken leg after that happened to him. The worst thing you've ever been through is some stupid video that was entirely your own fault in the first place," Gisella groaned.

"However, if you really think that people should be sorry for you, why don't you go back on TV and tell those nice reporters all about it?" Carmen joked, and they both burst out laughing.

"This is just a minor fall-out, you know. A small family feud. He'll be happy to help me by now," Rosario lied.

"Please. You're not little kids any more. You can't tell Angelo to do stuff for you by scaring him and telling him that if he doesn't, your dad will tell his dad and his dad will punish him. Let's face it: you killed the goose with the golden eggs," Gisella stated.

"N-no I haven't! You'll see! That nerd hasn't changed a bit!" Rosario snapped. He grabbed his phone, scrolled through the contacts and called his cousin.

"What do you want?" Angelo blearily asked. He'd just been woken up far earlier than he had wanted to (a pipe in the school's plumbing system had burst, so the students got a surprise day off school) and by someone he didn't particularly care for, no less. This had better be good if it meant that he woke up before Pepsi, a chronic early riser.

"Angelo, my dad told me to tell you that you need to get that video taken down," Rosario told the genius.

Angelo didn't believe him. "He wants me to get the video taken down?"

"Yes!" Rosario thought he'd won, so he added in another thing for Angelo to do. "And to say that the news company is ran by a bunch of morons and tell everyone that they're fake news!"

"You know something, Rosario? This is great and all, but I'd like to hear it from your dad directly instead of all this 'my dad told me to tell you' crap. So I'll have to hang up on you to ask your dad if he really said this," Angelo explained. Rosario freaked out. His plan was falling apart.

"No! Angelo, do not hang up, do not hang up! You cannot call my dad!" Rosario shrieked.

"Why not?"

"Because . . . my dad is really busy right now. He'll get in trouble if he takes personal calls at work because he has so much to do."

"He wasn't too busy to tell you to tell me, though. And if that's really the case, then I'll call him when he gets out of work."

"You can't do that. He's always really tired after work." It wasn't hard to hear the desperation in Rosario's voice. If Angelo called his father, then he was done for. He was already facing a year with no appliances, this would probably make it two.

"How about Sunday? Sunday's his day off, right?"

"He promised my sisters that he'd take them clothes shopping all day this Sunday." This was a blatant lie, and they all knew it. Rosario's dad, Angelo's Uncle Valerio, made it a point to tell every guy he knew that the only person to ever go clothes shopping with his daughters was his wife. He said it was so he could remain a normal man, and not the modern 'anti-man', that he deemed to be too feminine, too nice and too sensitive to be considered to be real men in this day and age.

"You're lying to me, aren't you, Rosario?"

"No!" Rosario denied.

"Then why can't I talk to your father about this? I mean, if you're telling the truth, then he'll agree with you. But you're not, are you?"

"Come on, Angelo, we're family! You have to believe me!" Rosario was a hair away from hyperventilation. He was about to cry, he really was. His plan was failing, and he knew it.

"I haven't believed you for a long time." There was a click as Angelo hung up.

"Dammit! He hung up on me!" Rosario screamed, throwing a tantrum. " Stupid, stupid Angelo! I hate him! I hate him!" He began pounding on the door of his locker with such ferocity, the door was bent inwards by his fist, broken beyond repair. Eventually, the initial anger gave way to self-pity and sorrow, and he began to wail like a baby. "All I asked for was a PlayStation and the latest iPhone!" But as he complained, his brain thought up new things to add to the list. "And new headphones! And a smart watch! And Air Max shoes, the newest ones! Is that too much to ask?!"

"Wow, what a brat," a disgusted onlooker asked. "Crying because his rich cousin wouldn't let him have the nice toys. What a baby!"

"I knew this would happen," Gisella groaned. "It always goes the same way. Rosario asks for something from someone, they don't give it to him, and then he throws a tantrum and breaks his stuff." Then she glanced over at her sister, and did a double-take. "Carmen, stop eating popcorn! Where did you even get popcorn from?"

"I figured this would happen, so I bought a bag so I had something to eat while watching this," Carmen replied, as she continued to eat popcorn like nobody's business.

"Dear God, give me strength," Gisella groaned. A teacher heard the tantrum and strode over to the screaming obese boy.

"Rosario Riva! Have you gone mad? Stop that infernal noise this instant!" she snapped.

"You don't understand! My cousin's being so mean to me!" Rosario wailed. "He won't let me have the things I wanted!"

"That's no excuse! Come with me so I can give you a well-earned detention!" the woman snapped.

"What for?" the tubby teenager whined.

The teacher simply pointed to the bent-in door of Rosario's locker. "Destruction of school property."

"Dammit," Rosario muttered.

Meanwhile, at the Blackwater Institution for Young Offenders, Maxwell was still clinging to the 'woe-is-me' mentality. Lunches were served to his cell and he couldn't mingle with the other inmates or go back to the break room. He still blamed all of this on his ex-classmate, Angelo Riva. If he had just gone with him instead of that nobody Lana, he wouldn't be in prison for solicitation of kidnapping and grievous bodily harm. And after he chose Lana instead of someone better like himself, he then turned the whole class against him. With that logic, he deserved that photo of him and Lana kissing. Thoughts like these kept Maxwell company at a time when nobody else could, as he thought about how far he'd fallen. Although he hated Angelo with a passion, he still wanted to get out of prison and be found not guilty so he could see his victim (or at least, that was what everyone seemed to call Angelo in his case) one more time and laugh in his face. That would feel good.

"Phone call for you, Maxwell," a prison guard told him. Maxwell got up and allowed himself to be escorted to the prison phone booths.

"Hello?" Maxwell tentatively greeted.

"Maxwell, good to hear from you," Jeremiah greeted, trying to sound positive. "How's prison treating you?"

"I'm in prison. How do you think?" Maxwell snarled. Jeremiah was initially rattled, but he tried to pretend that it was fine. He'd dealt with worse attitudes than this with his previous clients.

"Well, Maxwell, I've found a legal defence for you to use. But I don't think you'll like it." Jeremiah was secretly terrified of pitching this idea to his client. He'd had this talk before with other clients and it hadn't worked. "You need to take an independent psychiatric evaluation so the insanity defence can be used in your case." This went about as well as Jeremiah thought it would go.

"No! I'm not doing it! You're not going to tell the court that I'm a psycho! I'm not a psycho!" Maxwell roared down the phone. Jeremiah was terrified of the boy on the other end of the phone, who had simply flown into a rage. "If you want to help me, then find me a proper defence! Not this psycho shit!"

"Of course, Maxwell. It's just . . . you don't fit the criteria for any other defences," Jeremiah whimpered.

"Then make something up! You're a lawyer; you do this all the fucking time!" Maxwell snapped. "Just tell them that they made me do it! I'm fifteen, they'll eat that up!"

"Maxwell, fabricating evidence could result in me losing my licence to practice law and you being found guilty," the lawyer explained. "And it won't help your case."

"Fine! Just let me know when you have something useful," Maxwell huffed, slamming the phone down. He didn't even need an escort to his cell, storming back while the prison warden just kept an eye on him. My life sucks, Maxwell thought to himself, as he tried to go to sleep. Sleep was his only release from this hell of a life.

Over at the Norwood-Sykes mansion, Sean and Candi could be overheard arguing about finances by the maids. It turned out paying for the legal services of Jeremiah Quentin Coburn was rather expensive, even for a family like theirs. Candi wanted to take money out of the business to pay for their son's legal fees, but Sean disagreed. They would need that money to move them and their business somewhere else after the trial.

"Please, Sean, just consider it! He's our son!" Candi wailed.

"If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times! We need that money to make a fresh start somewhere else once this is all over!" Sean snapped.

"Without our son?" Candi wailed.

"Of course we'll take him, you stupid woman!" Sean huffed. "The whole family will be going to get away from this stupid town and these stupid reporters! Move the business somewhere else, change our names-"

"But we have enough profits from the business to be able to use money from there to pay the lawyer guy!"

"Not going to happen!" Sean told her. "Taking that much money will lose us the business, our biggest income generator! Have you gone crazy?"

"I just want my son!" Candi wailed, running away to watch TV and receive a much-needed massage. Sean huffed and later spent the night in a guest bedroom. His wife obviously wasn't going to listen to reason, or to him.

Inside the Dobson household, Lana and Angelo were studying. There was a test coming up on Islam and they were going to need to prepare. Well, Lana was going to need to prepare. Angelo was the only one who took notes during that lesson, so he was going to be fine. "How many times a year does Eid happen?" Angelo asked.

"Um, three times?" Lana asked.

"Twice," Angelo corrected. Lana groaned.

"I am so gonna fail," the redhead complained. "I don't remember being taught any of this stuff!"

"You just need the right motivation," Angelo sighed. "Go over my notes until I get back. I have an idea. What's your favourite sweet snack?"

"Chocolate buttons," Lana told him. "Wait, what are you-" And with that, Angelo was gone. Angelo went to the first off-licence he could find and found the biggest bag of chocolate buttons they had.

"That'll be a pound, please," the shopkeeper told him. He gave him a £5 note and got two £2 coins back. The genius inventor got back to find a worried Lana.

"Angelo? Why were you gone for so long?" Lana babbled, terribly worried.

"I was getting a study tool for you," Angelo explained, holding up the chocolate buttons.

"How is this going to help?" Lana asked.

"It gives you an incentive to get the answers right," Angelo explained. "Every time you get it right, I let you have one of these. Every time you get it wrong, I eat it in front of you."

"You'd better be joking," Lana huffed.

"Fine, I'll take them back. I still have the receipt and I haven't opened it yet. Your move," Angelo offered.

"Never mind! You should keep it!" Lana snapped. Angelo chuckled and picked up the revision flashcards.

"I thought you'd say that," Angelo chuckled. "How many pillars are there in Islam?"


"Correct." Angelo handed Lana a chocolate button, which she allowed to melt in her mouth, the taste of chocolate evenly distributing itself across her tongue. "How many times does a Muslim need to go to Hajj in their lifetime?"


"Correct. Name a reason for a Muslim not to pray."


"Correct. What is the name of the place good Muslims go?"


"Correct. What is the name of the place bad Muslims and non-believers go?"

"Jahannam. Can we have a break now?"

"Fine." The couple took a break, and Angelo let Lana eat more of the chocolate buttons that she loved so much. "You've been doing very well now. I guess using the chocolate as an incentive must be working after all!" Lana snickered. "What's so funny?"

"It's not because of the chocolates. It's because you're sitting in front of a mirror and I can see all the answers," Lana giggled. Angelo glared, but he couldn't stay mad at her.

"Sneaky little trickster," Angelo huffed. "Cheating with her revision while her boyfriend just wants to help her not fail."

"Aww, are you being all pouty over me messing with you? I know just what you need," Lana taunted, before pouncing. But Angelo was ready for her this time, not restrained by a hospital bed or a lack of crutches. He caught Lana and proceeded to dish out sweet revenge for the torture he had to go through for far too long. "GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ANGELO!"

"Yes, Lana?" Angelo asked, his voice sickly sweet, as if he had no idea what was going on or what his beloved leprechaun girlfriend was going through.


"What a nice way for you to talk about your boyfriend," Angelo sarcastically remarked. "Shouldn't you do the right thing and apologize for such a rude remark?"

"NOPE! HE'S A DIHIHIHIHIHICK!" Lana snapped. Angelo gasped theatrically.

"How could you be so cruel?" he gasped, digging his fingers deeper into Lana's ribs. During the hysterical laughter, Lana let out an adorable little snort. "Aww, that's adorable! I want you to do it again!" Lana spent the next half-hour letting out adorable giggle-snorts, teased out of her mouth by a rather mischievous Angelo. "If I'd known you'd react like this, I'd tickle you forever," Angelo whispered, as Lana thrashed.

"ANGELOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Lana squealed. She was gasping for air, and the loud noise made her mother investigate.

"Angelo? Lana? What's going on?" Martha asked, finding Angelo tickling Lana, who was squealing and giggling hysterically. "Oh, Lana, you look adorable!" Angelo had to improvise on the spot.

"She may look cute, but it won't stop her from cheating on her revision," Angelo admitted. "This is payback for that."

"Yeah, she earned that," Martha sighed. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it." She left the room, leaving the two to wonder about what happened.

"Ha! My mum saw you doing it! Now you have to stop tickling me!" Lana grinned. Angelo was staring at her neck. He knew just what he had to do to make his revenge complete.

"She never said I had to do that, but it's OK. I have another idea," Angelo smiled, and that was when the hickeys started. Lana squeaked and started purring. Damn, she remembered the first time she got hickeys from Angelo, and it felt amazing. She couldn't resist getting closer.

"Angelo, more! Please, more! This is good!" Her voice became more high-pitched and needy with every word, and Angelo knew that he had Lana right where he wanted her.

"You want this to go on for longer?" Angelo whispered. Lana nodded frantically.

"Yes, please," Lana cooed. That was Angelo's cue to go harder.

"Good," Angelo grinned, as he went rougher and stronger, his hands on her waist, one of them drifting downwards. Lana cooed and snuggled, purring like a tractor and letting her own hands toy with Angelo's belt. But being the little spoon sapped a lot of energy out of her, and Angelo eventually laid Lana down on the sofa so she could rest. Soon, the resting became sleeping, and Angelo smiled as Lana fell asleep next to him. He checked the time. 3:10. It was about time that he left. Mirella couldn't leave school on her own. After writing Lana a note explaining why he was gone for when she woke up, he went to see Lana's mother. She was watching TV in the living room when he came in. "Um, Ms Dobson? I need to go."

"Of course, Angelo. Bye." Ms Dobson waved Angelo goodbye with a small, freckled hand. It struck Angelo just how similar Lana was to her mother. Same complexion, similar height, similar build . . . and similar eyes. Both Lana and her mother had striking blue eyes.

"Bye," Angelo replied, heading out of the door, closing it behind him while leaning against the door. He hobbled over to the only primary school in Willowdale to collect his sister. She was waiting for him next to her surprisingly small teacher when she saw her brother coming. But her parents were also there behind Angelo, which was odd for a Friday. But she shook it off and went to her parents.

"Mamma! Papa! Angelo!" she squealed. All three were confused to hear her say that, but it made sense when they looked around.

"What are you doing here?" Angelo asked. "Normally, it's me who takes Mirella home."

"We thought that you might like a ride home from school afterwards," Roselle replied.

"Also, I wanna see this place where they gave you free de-" He was elbowed in the ribs by their mother. "OW!" Angelo fought back a snicker. Mirella openly laughed at her parents.

"Mamma made Papa stop talking!" Mirella giggled.

"I know. Mamma is a genius!" Angelo replied.

"That's right, you two," Roselle replied, grinning up at her husband. "Mamma is the clever one, and don't you ever forget it."

"And what are I supposed to be?" Bonaventura asked.

"You're the guy that taught me and Santo how to forge my mother's signature on PE notes so we didn't have to participate," Angelo replied.

"What?!" Roselle blurted out.

"Thanks, kid," Bonaventura huffed.

"And he told me the Wi-Fi lady turns the Wi-Fi off after six o'clock and turns it back on again in the morning!" Mirella replied. Angelo snickered.

"And I'm dead," Bonaventura grumbled. "Why did I ever have children?"

"Beats me," Angelo replied.

"That's it!" Bonaventura huffed, placing Angelo into a headlock. Angelo coughed and choked, slowly turning blue. Roselle was tasked with separating them.

"You two, enough!" Roselle huffed. The two separated. Bonaventura started coughing nervously. Angelo gasped for air like a fish out of water. "Honestly, you two need to grow up! You can't just put each other into headlocks in public!"

"Watch us," Angelo grinned.

"More like watch me," Bonaventura grinned. Angelo glared at him, but made no further comments. "Good boy. Staying nice and quiet for Papa." Angelo pouted and turned away. Roselle used this to make a point to her only daughter.

"Mirella, look at them. This is why women say that men never grow up," Roselle replied.

"Oh," Mirella replied, staring at her dad and brother. "Can we go to the café place now?"

"Yes," Roselle told her, glaring at the boys. They looked at each other and smiled nervously before going with her. They drove to the cosy little café and sat down to order. The manager wasn't there, but they were greeted by a young man, not much older than Santo. He seemed very enthusiastic, with curly blonde hair that seemed to go in every direction except straight down.

"Hello! My name is Kingston. What would you - oh, God." He stopped the moment he saw Angelo, who just looked at him and smiled. "It's him. It's him! He's here!" He ran off to some back room, and the Riva family just stared at each other in confusion.

"What the flip?" Angelo asked. (He had to keep it clean, after all; there was a small child present.)

"Angelo, what's going on?" Mirella asked. "He just ran away."

"Just stay calm, you three," Roselle ordered. "Someone will be back soon." Kingston eventually returned, but he seemed to be constantly on his toes.

"Sorry about that. Hello, my name is Kingston. What would you like?" Kingston asked, smiling maniacally. "I'm just so sorry. I didn't think you would be here, and I panicked."

"Didn't think who would be here?" Angelo asked.

"Him! I-I mean you! I mean - I'm sorry," he sighed.

"No, no, no, it's OK. Now, could you move a little?" Angelo asked. "I can't quite see the menu board. You're standing in front of it."

"I'll see if I get you a laminated copy of the menu," Kingston stammered, rushing off again. Now all four were confused.

"He must have seen you on the news," Bonaventura asked. "That's how he recognized you. Speaking of which, how has school been? Is anyone picking on you? Because you know that if anyone is picking on you, I can report it to the principal."

"They're not picking on me. They all think it's really cool and signed my cast when I came back! Kids from my school even came to the hospital to see me!" Angelo countered. "And you should have seen them when Maxwell was arrested! People were booing until they took him away!"

"Someone got taken away in a police car?" Mirella asked.

"No, sweetie, they took him away in an ice cream van," Angelo replied. Roselle smacked Angelo around the head. "Ow!"

"Angelo, what have I told you about being sarcastic around Mirella?" she chided.

"Sorry," Angelo muttered.

"Better," their mother sighed.

"Here's the laminated copy of the menu for you," Kingston replied, placing a laminated copy of the menu in front of Angelo. "Let me know when you want to order." He then rushed up to the till/kitchen area and started cleaning cups and preparing saucers, trying not to look at Angelo or his family.

"Who's Maxwell?" Mirella asked.

"You don't want to know," Angelo replied. "He's . . . not very nice." Mirella forgot about him and instead tried to look at the menu.

"I want the red velvet muffin like last time," Mirella decided.

"The strawberry milkshake sounds nice," Bonaventura admitted.

"I'm having the apple pie," Roselle replied.

"Chocolate milkshake," Angelo stated.

"I'll do it," Bonaventura replied, going up to the till, where he found a very jittery Kingston. "Hello, I'd like to place our orders."

"You would?! I mean, of course you would, this is a café, how silly of me," Kingston replied. "What would you like?"

"Red velvet muffin for my daughter, strawberry milkshake for me, chocolate milkshake for my son and an apple pie for my wife," Bonaventura relayed. Kingston got right on it, making the milkshakes from scratch in the blenders and taking the slice of apple pie and the red velvet muffin out from the cupboard. Angelo watched in fascination.

So this is how milkshakes are made, Angelo thought. He prepared a £5 note to slip inside Kingston's pocket when he wasn't looking, as a thank you. He seemed nice. Their dad went to get everyone's food and tried to pay for it, but Kingston refused. "It's been paid for, sir."

"W-what?!" the man stammered. Angelo was right after all!

"It's been paid for. Store policy," Kingston replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "You can keep your money." Bonaventura smiled gratefully, and Kingston took the food back to their table. Angelo almost drooled at the sight of his chocolate milkshake. "Here you go, ladies and gentlemen," Kingston told the family, placing them down in front of them and sorting out whose dessert belonged to who. While he was doing that and everyone else was distracted with the food, Angelo slipped the £5 note inside his jeans pocket while he was leaning over the table to hand over their desserts. "I hope you enjoy your food."

"Thank you," Angelo replied, grinning as he stared up at Kingston. The boy had no idea what had happened to him. "You've been great." Kingston felt his heart flutter. Angelo, the hero, had complimented him. He looked away with a rising blush on his face as he rushed away to a back room.

"This place makes amazing pie," Roselle said. "How long have they been letting you have free food?"

"Since last Friday," Angelo replied. "I tried to pay and the next thing I know, I'm told that it's all been paid for. I tried to pay, but the manager lady said I didn't need to tip her."

"More people know about what you did than I thought," Bonaventura replied. "Before, it was just in newspapers, and nobody reads those. But it seems to be everywhere now."

"Oh, no," Angelo groaned. "I don't like this." The idea made him want to curl up and cry, but he couldn't. People would see and fuss over him. Mirella would be worried about him, and she didn't need that. He would save the panicking for when he got home. Mirella seemed tired, so they all piled into the (rental) car and went home. Angelo's sudden low mood was noticed by his father, who suddenly decided that he would have to do something about it. As his wife got his daughter ready for bed, he went to go see Angelo. His son was in the living room, lying down on his back across the whole sofa.

"Angelo, are you OK? I didn't know that you would be so worried about it," Bonaventura replied. "You wanna talk?" Angelo nodded.

"You and Uncle Valerio have been arguing a lot," Angelo pointed out. "I heard you in the hospital. Why?" Bonaventura stiffened.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," the father of three sighed. "He was late getting to the hospital and didn't seem to care about it. And he only visited twice, despite promising that he would be there every day. And after that business with the news crew and the way he talked to you . . ." He trailed off, leaving a clear indication of how he felt.

"And Rosario's been calling and texting me a lot since the news conference thing," Angelo disclosed. "And Uncle Valerio."

"Show me those texts," Bonaventura replied. Angelo handed over his phone, and Rosario's text messages to Angelo were revealed to the worried father, who soon became the livid father. The first texts he saw between Angelo and Rosario went as follows:

Rosario: Angelo, you have to get that video taken down.

Angelo: I can't. Only the people that posted the video can have it taken down again. My hands are tied.

R: Then talk to them! They won't listen to me!

A: I don't know how or where to contact them.

R: Then you're dead to me! I'm telling my dad about you for not protecting your family!

A: Tell him.

The first texts he saw between his own brother and his son made him want to punch someone. Those texts went as follows:

Uncle Valerio: Angelo, you need to make sure that Rosario isn't humiliated over this. He is taking this very hard.

Angelo: Why were you in Willowdale at the time? You live in London.

U.V: Rosario wanted to see you. This alone should be ample reason for you to get rid of it.

A: I came home from school to find Rosario in front of my house, but the fact that he had the foresight to pick my house means I should be grateful?

U.V: Stop wasting my time and get rid of the video.

A: I can't take down a video I never posted. You should ask the news company to do that. I'm sorry I couldn't help you more.

U.V: Rosario is family to you. Since you are more popular, you should convince people that he's a good person who did a dumb thing.

A: There is nothing I can do about this because I didn't post it and I don't know how to contact the people who did.

U.V: You're a traitor. I'll have to tell your father how disgusting you are being so he can give you the beating you deserve.

Bonaventura read through these texts and just hugged his son as hard as he could. "It's not true," he repeated. "You did your best. Don't listen to them."

"Could you make them stop?" Angelo asked. "They've been calling and texting nonstop since . . . it happened. And when I can't give them what they want, it gets nasty."

"I've got the perfect solution to this," Bonaventura replied, as he blocked their numbers from his son's phone and saved all the texts, for use in an argument sometime in the future. "Now that's solved, go to bed. And I mean your actual bed, not the couch."

"Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't want to share a room with you anyway." That earned him a pair of hands to his stomach, and as the injured teenager squealed and begged for mercy, he found himself being dragged closer. Then his leg ended up in his father's lap, and he was forced to hold back his laughter as his father traced the signatures on his cast. It was adorable how his teenage son still squirmed like a child when one of his sweet spots was touched.

"How sweet, the other kids wrote on your cast. I want to count how many signatures there are," Bonaventura suggested, as he pretended to count how many people drew on his son's cast. This was torture for the poor inventor. He was essentially forced to lie there and pretend that nothing was bothering him as his father knowingly and deliberately tickled the snot out of him. He would just have to wait it out until his father had had his fun with his ticklish body. The room began to spin, and the next thing he knew, he was being carried upstairs by his dad, bridal style.

"What are you doing? I don't need to be carried," Angelo insisted. "I'm not little any more."

"Shush, you'll wake Mirella," Bonaventura replied. Angelo shut up. "Besides, you're too tired to walk. You'll probably fall asleep in about ten seconds." Angelo huffed as he was placed in bed, but he wasn't completely ungrateful.

"Thanks." It was quiet, but he caught it.

"You're welcome." Bonaventura slipped out of his son's bedroom. "Sweet dreams." And, as he left the room, he was proven right. Angelo fell asleep in about ten seconds.

Meanwhile, Kingston was getting changed and going to bed. He had placed his jeans on the door to be folded up and placed in a cupboard, when a £5 note fell out of them onto the floor. He knew that it hadn't been there the last time he checked, so someone had taken the money and put it in there themselves as a tip. And he knew who. "Angelo," he muttered to himself. "Nice kid."